


What the Water Gave Me

by Ryu_No_Joou



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Bathing/Washing, Fluff, It's just an excuse for them to be cute ok, M/M, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:57:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22243444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_No_Joou/pseuds/Ryu_No_Joou
Summary: A short fic about Arthur helping John to face his fears.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	What the Water Gave Me

In the midst of summer, New Hanover was blazing hot, sun beating down on the grass and making the air shimmer off in the distance. Insects whirred in the bushes and from the Dakota came laughing and splashing as most of the Van der Linde gang took the opportunity to swim in the river. 

They’d scared off every fish for miles but it didn’t matter; Pearson had gone to Valentine and secured a large amount of vegetables for supper to go with the bear Arthur and Charles had caught early that morning. There was money to go around and liquor to be had and the gang was feeling fine. 

“John, you coming in?” Javier yelled from the shallows, waving to his friend who sat under a tree. John only shook his head, concentrating on his whittling - not that he was doing much but sharpening a stick, he really didn’t feel like doing anything more challenging. It was good to just sit in the shade with a bottle of whiskey by his hand and watch the others. On the very far shore he could see a few deer warily watching the gang, probably wondering what these crazy humans were doing in their waterhole, John thought with a grin. Turning his head to look out over the river, he felt a little prickle of pride to see Jack fearlessly wade in, holding Abigail’s hand. John might not swim, but the boy should. It was an important skill to have, he supposed, even if he had little desire to learn himself.

“What’s the matter, cowpoke?” Micah bellowed. “You scaaaared?”

God, John hated him. “Shut up, Micah,” he muttered, taking a swig of whiskey and looking away. 

“You afraid a fish is gonna nibble at your pussy?” Micah laughed, not paying attention to the angry glare Abigail shot him as she put her hands over Jack’s ears. “What kind of man don’t even know how to swim?!”

“Aw, shut up, ya bastard!” John said angrily. One more word, and he’d go in there anyway just to punch Micah in the nose. 

“Leave him alone,” he heard Charles say to Micah, and he felt a little better. It would have been nicer if Arthur had said it, but Arthur was gone. He’d said something about going to town to check something out for Dutch, and wouldn’t be back for quite awhile. It was too bad, really. He was missing a fine day, and frankly John was missing an even finer sight. But that was life and he knew it. The gang came first.

Irritated, he folded up his knife and snagged his whiskey, standing up. “I’m goin’ back,” he called to Charles and Abigail, who waved at him. At least it was shady in camp, he could lay down in his tent and take a nap, maybe. With most of the others swimming or off on jobs, it’d be quiet, too. 

—

By the time Arthur came back to camp, it was late. Most of the others were asleep, except for Charles and Bill on guard duty, and John still sitting by the fire. John had almost fallen asleep sitting up. He hadn’t been able to nap that afternoon, his tent was too warm to sleep in. The sun had managed to peek through the trees just long enough to make it stifling inside. 

He heard the crack of a twig and jerked awake to see Arthur plop down across from him, holding a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread.

“Fallin’ asleep, Marston? Can’t be too comfortable.” Arthur tucked in to his food. His sleeves were rolled up and John could see sweat stains on his shirt. “Hell of a hot day, hmm? Swear to Christ I thought I’d choke on the dust over the roads.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, scrubbing his raspy cheek with the heel of his hand. “Still seems hot in my tent. Didn’t want to lay down just yet.”

“Mmm.” Arthur continued to eat and for awhile there was only companionable silence. John stretched his legs out and looked up at the stars. He never remembered the names of the constellations besides the Big and Little Dippers, though Hosea had told him time and time again that the stars could lead him home if he was ever lost.

He was right about that. John had been lost, for a whole year. Lost in his head, in his foolish pride, in his problems. And the stars had pointed him home, right where he belonged since he’d joined the gang - with Arthur. 

“Micah givin’ you trouble again?” Arthur asked quietly, setting aside his empty dish. “Charles said.”

John shrugged. “Weren’t nothing serious,” he muttered. “Just teasin’ me because I can’t swim.”

“Hmm.” Arthur didn’t say much to that, but he was always a close-minded, tight-lipped old cuss. John continued to stargaze, vaguely remembering the astronomy lessons Hosea had tried so hard to teach him. 

Thing was, he hadn’t been able to protest against Micah’s accusations. John had been afraid of water all his life, thought it might’ve started his first week at the orphanage when an older boy had thrown him into the nearby creek for a laugh. Before that, he’d never seen a body of water other than the pathetic trickle near his father’s house the locals called a brook. 

Afterwards… well, the size of the water didn’t matter, it was the depth. A big wide puddle wasn’t as scary as a small, fathomless lake. He’d heard too many stories of people drowned, and every time he heard one his chest tightened. _‘That could’a been me’_, he’d think. Even after all these years running with the gang, he didn’t care for water. He’d tried his damndest not to let on during the Blackwater job, but as he’d gazed out across Flat Iron Lake, it had hit him just how deep it must be. And when they fled along the docks, the old wood creaking ominously under them…. his heart had been in his throat, and not because of the bullet he’d taken in the arm.

“Come on,” Arthur said, rising, breaking John out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Where are we going?”

“Get a change of clothes, we’ll head down to the river.” Arthur was already loping towards his tent, expecting that John would do as he was told. And John did. 

Arthur may have been Dutch’s boy, but John belonged to Arthur. 

They mounted their horses and rode down to the water. Arthur wasted no time in lighting his lantern and setting it on a rock, before stripping off his sweaty clothes and wading in. John envied how nothing seemed to scare Arthur. Hesitantly, he undressed as well but only went in up to his waist, where there’d be no chance his feet could leave the bottom. He supposed it felt nice - it was cooler than the air - but his chest was getting tight. 

Fighting his panic down, he took the soap Arthur offered and scrubbed himself off, finishing with his hair. Everyone teased him about not washing his hair as often as he should, and he knew he really should take care of it so it would be as soft as Arthur’s… but he hated putting his head in the water to rinse off. He worked the suds slowly through his tangled mane, biting his lip. 

“Johnny. Come here.” Arthur was beside him, suddenly. He tugged John over to the shallows and had him sit on a rock. “Tilt your head back,” he instructed, and John obeyed. He wouldn’t have for anyone else, and Arthur knew it very well. 

Arthur had his tin cup with him, and he filled it up then poured it gently over John’s head, running his fingers through his hair. John sighed, visibly relaxing as Arthur continued to rinse his hair until all the soap was gone. He placed a soft kiss on John’s forehead. “There you go, Johnny.”

“Thanks.” John opened his eyes and gave Arthur a grateful smile. The older man rubbed his shoulders.

“You’re still too tense.”

“I know.” John looked out over the moonlit water. “I just… I hate it. I wish I could get over this… this fear.”

Arthur was quiet for a bit, then took his hand. “Come on.”

“Huh?” John was tugged to his feet and Arthur began leading him further out. “Hey - A-Art…”

“It’s okay.” Arthur pulled him close and lifted him. John yelped in fear and wrapped his arms and legs around his boyfriend, who held him securely. “Shh… shh. It’s okay, darlin’. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just hold on tight, okay?”

“O-okay,” John couldn’t have held on tighter if he tried, but Arthur didn’t comment on it, just wading further in until they were almost up to their shoulders. 

“Keep holding on with your arms. Put your legs down. I’ve got you.”

God, John hated the idea. But he did as he was told, one foot then the other touching the bottom. He had a slight moment of terror when he slid down Arthur’s body, but Arthur held him securely as he caught his balance. He trembled in his lover’s arms, his heart pounding. Arthur kissed his cheek, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“It’s okay, John. Relax. Just hang on to me, close your eyes and listen.”

“O-okay…” John pressed his cheek to Arthur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Arthur rubbed his back, trying to help him relax. And after a few minutes, he did. 

To his surprise, he realized the water was gentle. It flowed around them slowly, and over its soft murmur John could hear the crickets and the far away howl of a coyote. His feet were firmly on the bottom and Arthur’s big arms were wrapped securely around him. His frantic heartbeat slowed to a more normal rhythm. 

“How do you feel?” Arthur whispered.

“It’s… it’s okay,” John admitted. “D-don’t let go!” he added, as Arthur shifted slightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.” Arthur hummed softly, still rubbing John’s back. “Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. But there ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, either. You gotta be careful around water, accidents do happen. But as long as you take care, you’ll be fine.”

“I just feel stupid,” John muttered. “Even Jack takes to the water better than I do.”

“John, it ain’t stupid to be afraid. And you can always learn, if you want. I can help you.”

“You will? I-if I want to learn?”

“‘Course I will.” Arthur smiled at him. “Little steps, y’know. You don’t have to go chargin’ in all at once.”

“It isn’t…. that bad… with you.” the younger man admitted. “I guess I… gotta learn someday.”

“When you’re ready. I’ll take you out to Moonstone Pond. It’s nice, you’ll like it.” Arthur kept one arm firmly around John’s waist, anchoring him, and scooped up water with his other hand to trickle over their shoulders. John closed his eyes. He never thought he’d be this comfortable in the water, but he had Arthur. As long as Arthur was there, he’d always be safe. He felt more at ease as time went by, until he realized he was shivering again, this time with cold. 

“Let’s go back,” Arthur said, smiling. He took John’s hand and led him back to shore, where they dried off quickly and dressed. 

“That was nice. Thank you, sweet,” John said softly. 

Arthur kissed him. “You’re welcome, darlin’. You wanna sleep with me tonight? More chance of a breeze in my tent.”

Micah would tease more when he saw them emerge together in the morning, but John didn’t care about that. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“Love you,” Arthur murmured.

“Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Florence + The Machine song, but this has a happier ending.
> 
> SHUT UP, MICAH.


End file.
